


Read the description

by I_hate_mages_No_you_dont



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenders, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre Friendship, Writing, love letter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:56:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/pseuds/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont
Summary: No mage Anders knew had ever dared to fall in love. But he had. Heavily so. And fallen for Fenris of all people. The elf that had hated him from their very first meeting.‘The Maker hates me!’In one of the moments when Anders fears to drown in his own feelings, he grabs his quill to get the offending thoughts out of his mind... and ends up with a love letter to Fenris.(by kittenmage)





	1. Realization

**Author's Note:**

> Had a long rant about there not being enough fanfictions from Anders' POV. Also not enough were the attraction on Fenris isn't based purely on sexual attraction. So glowelf suggested I change that and write something myself. So I did. Beware, this fanfic might be very incoherent and biased and ultimately confusing because that is what the inside of Anders' thoughts looks like to me.  
> I hope you can enjoy the awkwardness that is this mage!
> 
> (slightly inspired by "Little teasing notes" by ContreParry read it if you haven't already!)

Anders couldn’t remember when it had started. Maybe it was the first time when Fenris had phased across the battlefield and shoved him out of the way of a Qunari blade, screaming “Behind you, mage!” or maybe it was the tiny, almost inaudible laughter Fenris displayed when Hawke did one of her terribly bad jokes. Or the unexpected kindness Anders had witnessed again and again that Fenris would show to others when the elf thought that Anders wasn’t around. The wordless help he offered Isabela when she got back from the Wounded Coast, badly hurt by a slaver protesting against his stabilizing hand in her usual chirpy demeanour. Fenris walking Merrill as far as the stairs to the Alienage after a card night, to make sure Hawke’s favourite blood mage got home unassaulted. Fenris being absolutely loyal towards Hawke even if her decisions collided with his own views. Or even the hissed warnings that never lacked contempt when Fenris bid Anders wait for a Templar to pass in Hightown, so the mage wouldn’t be detected.

Musing over this, Anders cursed at himself for not noticing earlier, for not being more on his guard. With every tiny observation of Fenris’ character that revealed more than the anger and venom he directed at Anders, the mage saw a proud, calm man that was deeply protective of his friends. His initial hate of the insufferable, intolerant elf from Tevinter had slowly but steadily transformed into amazement. Then regard. And before Anders could have escaped or warned himself against it, he had fallen for the one person in his group of friends, of whom he was sure these feeling would never be returned.

He just had to fall in love with someone who hated him as much as Anders hated the Templars.

Realization hit him, when one day Hawke had turned up at his clinic with Fenris in tow offering him a basket full of bandages, fresh potion vials and a huge bundle of elfroot. Astonishment written plainly on his face, Anders only managed a small “thank you”. Hawke had laughed and said that she knew Anders needed more supplies than he could afford and Fenris nodded in silent agreement. Anders had stood there, basket in hand, staring at his friends and especially at Fenris, whose gaze was firmly locked onto Hawke. “We’ll leave you to your work, Anders! But please, tell me when you need help, or more herbs. We’ll head back to Sundermount with Merrill tomorrow and could gather stuff for you on the way back!” Hawke smiled, gave Anders’ shoulder a quick, friendly squeeze and was out of his clinic again. Followed by Fenris, who’s green eyes had followed Hawke’s movements every second. At the door, the elf turned, nodded again with a quick “Mage!” thrown at Anders and closed the wooden door behind them.

Anders only knew he had been staring after them as Lirene asked if he needed a short break. His head had snapped towards her, his mouth opened and closed without him saying anything. “ehh…” Lirene smiled. “I gather you do. Let’s make some tea and resume work later on, shall we!” She busied herself at the fire and Anders still stood there, his mind in a total confusion and his heart aching with a ridiculous feeling. He was jealous.

For a split second he told himself that his jealousy was directed at Fenris. That Fenris got what he had wanted, Marian Hawke’s affection. But his initial crush for the other mage had faded over the course of the years and left him with something more akin to brotherly affection to a younger sister. So, if he wasn’t jealous for Hawke’s attention this could only mean… Anders hissed and cursed at himself… Andraste’s tits, he was even more of a fool than he had thought!

Even Justice spared a comment, which only confirmed Anders’ stupidity to himself.

 

Some days had passed since Anders’ silly realization of his regard for the elf and that it had reached a degree far more than simple friendship. And Anders was still mad at himself, whenever he remembered it. Which was practically every few minutes, since he currently was on a trip with Hawke - together with the elf in question.

“Mark your way, Blondie, I can’t swim and will definitely not jump after you, if you fall from the cliff!” Varric was walking on a level with Anders whose angry gaze was directed at the back of Fenris’ head. Which had caused even more stumbling on Anders’ part as his feet collided with stones strewn on the sandy path along the Wounded Coast. The dwarf sighed as he followed Anders’ look. “Oh dear. Still not over our fearless leader? You know she doesn’t fancy Broody either?”

Anders blinked in surprise, his glaring broke abruptly and he looked quizzically at the dwarf. Varric shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I had thought it all settled between them, but it seems Hawke is into a different elf.” Anders’ eyes opened wide at that new piece of information and turned to Hawke and Fenris again, who seemed to be oblivious of the talk behind them. Suddenly there was a light pat on Anders’ back. “Don’t take it too hard. You still got me!” The dwarf winked with a sympathetic grin. Anders shook his head. “I appreciate that, Varric.” A smile played across his lips. He didn’t feel the need to inform Varric, that he hadn’t been pining for Hawke at all, but instead was rather mad at his own regard for a certain elf walking in front of them. But it was better if Varric didn’t know. He would offer his sympathy as always and probably turn this one-sided love into another horrid novel. Anders could almost see the cover of the next part of “Swords and Shields” and violently shook his head to get the image out of his mind.

“Arguing with your demon, are you?” Fenris had chosen this moment to take a look over his shoulder and interpreted Anders’ shaking head as an internal debate. The elf wasn’t too far from the truth, Anders admitted to himself. Though the “demon” in question was no spirit of Justice but the broody elf who plagued the mages thoughts far too often. “None of your concern, elf!”, Anders snapped back and quickened his pace slightly, his attention firmly directed towards the path in front of his feet. He chided himself for his rude reply, but when surprised his automatic response to Fenris was still anger. They had been fighting and quarrelling over mages and slaves and Tevinter and Templars for the better part of four years. Being sarcastic and hurtful as a response to anything Fenris said had been his protection from the elf’s total lack of understanding. And against being hurt too much by the knowledge, that whatever Anders would say, Fenris never believed him. Not when Anders spoke of the general injustice towards mages, nor when he talked of his personal experiences. Anders sighed heavily. To be fair, in return Anders, too, had never been understanding in the slightest. From the moment Fenris had made his dislike of mages known, Anders had brushed everything Fenris had said aside. He hated himself in hindsight. Hated himself and his too quick tongue even as he had said those hateful words again and again. But by now it probably was even too late for regret.

Lost in his chaotic mind that scolded himself for being mean again and tried to push away the more tender sentiments Anders felt welling up, he completely missed that he was now walking well in front of the others. “Anders! Hey! Wrong path, we need to go up here.” Confused Anders stopped to look back and saw Hawke pointing up the hill slope. As he was back at her side, he could see her wide grin. “What mess is going on in your brain right now? You’re a total scatterbrain, Anders.” Her eyes got softer and she added, “Is it Justice?”.

Anders opened his mouth for a reply, then couldn’t think of what to say. In his current agitation it wasn’t completely unlikely that he would reveal the whole problem to Hawke in a jumble of words. So Anders closed his mouth and simply shook his head. He took a deep breath. “That’s not it. It’s... complicated…” For a second his eyes lingered on Fenris who was watching the two mages with a raised eyebrow. “But the matter at hand with the Tal-Vashoth is more urgent, I am sure.”

 

The clinic door slammed shut behind Anders.

The unavoidable fight with the Qunari had went just as every fight with Hawke. She had roasted most of them with precisely thrown fire balls. Varric had fired bolt after bolt with a firm smirk on his face. Fenris had phased back and forth between the different opponents, crushed hearts and slashing Qunari with his sword. And Anders kept an eye on everyone’s safety, casually healing his companions and sending freezing spells towards various attackers. All as always. Up to the point when the battlefield had seemed safe to walk over to Hawke, who was crunching her nose because of a bad burn she had gotten from a deflected fire ball. Much to Anders’ shock, it wasn’t as safe as he had supposed. A Tal-Vashoth rogue appeared out of thin air directly behind him, ready to plunge a dagger in his chest. Even before Justice could come to Anders’ aid, the mage felt the cold shudder of something moving through him. He could only watch as Fenris had phased directly through his body and ferociously impaled the Qunari with his sword. The elf turned towards the mage, wild fury in his eyes. “For a healer you are remarkably dumb. Moving into battle without a shield or even a protection spell. You’ll get yourself killed the next time!” Fenris glared daggers at Anders and then turned abruptly and went over to Varric. A few dazed moments Anders stood there blinking and realized that he wasn’t going to die on the Wounded Coast through a Qunari blade. But that he had been saved by Fenris. Both his mind and heart were racing and Anders loathed feeling so utterly helpless.

All the way back, after healing Hawke’s burn with ease, Anders’ gaze was again more turned on the words floating through his mind, than the path in front of him. Multiple times his feet bumped into rocks which eventually got him the attention of his companions. Hawke looked worried, Varric threw in a quick “Mind your step, Blondie!” and Fenris raised his eyebrows at the mage in passing.

Back in his clinic, the chaos in Anders’ mind had ebbed down. He stood in the middle of the room looking a bit forlorn. 

**_‘This has to end Anders! You are unconcentrated, your mind is distracted. You cannot afford to be careless in a fight!’_** Justice’s voice echoed through Anders’ head with exactly the words he would direct towards himself. This needed to stop! He needed to get these words, these thoughts, these… feelings out of his mind, so he could concentrate again. But how to stop the unwanted emotions from cursing through him all day, tangled in a mess of thoughts?

Anders flung his hands up in despair as if to emphasize his internal struggle to the empty room. What could he do to sort his mind again?

An idea sparked in Anders’ brain. Well, if he could get his anger on the situation of mages under temporary control by writing it down, he might as well try it with… this problem.

He quickly fetched a sheet of paper and opened his inkwell. For a moment Anders sat there staring at the paper, feather ready in his hand to scribe the words he needed to get out of his mind. Out of his system. But where to start? In his manifesto he addressed a reader, someone that would hopefully one day read his thoughts on the plight of mages. How should he write down feelings? Anders shortly considered just random words, but that didn’t seem structured enough to have the desired effect. He needed to clean up the mess that was his mind. He thought about addressing himself, but that seemed somewhat silly. On an impulse, he dipped the quill into the inkwell and put two first words onto the blank page.

_‘Dear Fenris’_

All Anders could think of was that bloody elf after all. And since telling him of this in person was out of the question, he might as well direct this letter towards the man that caused all the confusion. After Anders had made up his mind to address Fenris, the words flew freely.

_‘You confuse me. I know that I never directed a kind word towards you and you might in all probability laugh at the thought that I am even able to be kind… still I need you to know that I don’t hate you. And would wish thousands of words and insults and mockery to be unsaid. But I can’t. Time cannot be reversed. So let me tell you this now. You are utterly undeserving of all the times I was harsh and angry and bitter and hurtful. All the times I didn’t believe you, make me bow my head in shame. When now all I want to say, all I can think about, all that occupies my mind is that I wronged you… and I would rather have you know that you are not despised or feared but loved…’_

After a short while the page was filled in Anders’ tiny handwriting on both sides, along with another and yet another. Anders frowned at the papers in front of him and put the quill and ink away. His mind felt oddly calm and sorted after getting out all the tiny thoughts and reasons why he liked Fenris. Anders quickly folded the papers and put them under his manifesto in a desperate attempt to not count how many times he had written ‘I love you’. He was pathetic and he knew it. But at least he felt, as if he could focus his thoughts on something else again. Something else than his childish infatuation with the elf. And maybe he would even find a little bit of sleep before opening the clinic in the morning.


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never know what you'll discover at card night.

Days went past that turned into weeks in which Anders never felt the need to misuse his paper and ink again for getting rid of his personal thoughts.

Work in the clinic went by as usual. Occasionally interrupted by a trip with Hawke to some Maker forsaken places - mostly without Fenris’ company, for which Anders was utterly grateful - and the weekly card night in the Hanged Man. Life was almost calm for Anders. He went about his daily routine and only seldom a pair of green eyes or a deep laughter ghosted through his mind. Not counting his dreams of course, that apart from darkspawn tormented him with hilarious situations in which Fenris found Anders’ letter.

Anders’ calmness came to a sudden end at the card night four weeks after he had written the atrocious letter. When Anders entered the Hanged Man and made his way to Varric’s private quarters the only empty seat he could find was next to Fenris. After the first brush of panic had subsided, Anders told himself that he could do that, that there was nothing troubling about sitting next to Fenris. Nothing at all…

“Blondie! Finally! We thought you might not come at all!” Varric beamed from his usual seat at the head of the table already shuffling the cards for another round. “Wicked Grace! You in?” Anders replied with a nod and reached for the obligatory tea that sat in the middle of the table, waiting for him to arrive.

“We celebrate tonight, Sparklefingers! If you finally convince that spirit of yours to let you have a drink with us!”. Isabela who was seated next to Anders other side leaned over and winked in her usual flirty fashion. “Just one drink with friends! You used to be quite the competition when we were younger!” Another wide grin was thrown at Anders, who cupped his cold fingers around the mug. “Celebrate? What did I miss again?” He let his gaze wander about his friends and only then realized that Donnic sat between Aveline and Hawke, smiling sheepishly.

“Aveline is **finally** …ouch… that hurt!” Hawke rubbed her shoulder where Aveline had just lightly punched her. “It is true! It took you two ages!” Hawke dodged another punch with a grin and turned back to Anders. “They are engaged! Isn’t that the best news?!” Merrill clapped excitedly and Varric chuckled. “Yes, we are engaged, no need to scream so loud even the people in the bar can hear you!” Despite her angry tone, Anders saw the blush on Aveline’s cheeks and the content loving smile on Donnic’s face. He felt his own face widen in a grin. “I am very happy for you! Both of you! And congratulate you of course!” He raised his tea as if to toast, when Isabela hissed and exchanged the mug for a glass of wine. Anders could only blink. Justice was about to burst into a very passionate speech about alcohol, when Isabela glared at Anders. “Listen to me Justice! This is an important custom!” She pointed at the glasses in everyone’s hands. “And it would be a shame if not to say **unjust** to keep Anders from it!” She stressed the word unjust especially, before she turned to her own drink again and waited for Anders’ reaction. The mage was stunned at the silence in his head. Had Isabela just effectively shut up Justice? As everyone raised their glasses to Donnic and Aveline, Anders did the same and slowly raised the wine to his mouth. Just before he could take the tiniest sip, Justice grumbled from the back of his consciousness **_‘But only this one glass, Anders!’_** and fell silent. Anders couldn’t help but giggle and grin at Isabela in his turn. She seemed satisfied with herself. The rest of his friends seemed equally astonished, but the main focus was soon enough directed towards Aveline, Donnic and the card game again.

As Anders took another small sip from the wine glass, he could hear a low chuckle from the elf next to him. He turned and looked at Fenris with a questioning expression. “So… you can’t convince Justice of anything you want, but all it takes is a pirate and he’s silent?!” An amused smirk played around Fenris’ mouth for a second before the man seemed to recollect he was talking to Anders and his face turned into the usual stern expression. Yet for Anders’ liking the smile had lingered far too long. Never had he been such a direct recipient of a well-meaning joke and smile from Fenris. Not that he could recollect at least. His face flushed with heat and colour and Anders swiftly downed a huge gulp of wine to look away from the elf.

Why did that blighted elf have to be so darn smug all of a sudden? Anders could have handled the usual frowning and glares a lot better than a smile and an open look from those stupidly green eyes. In order to distract himself, he focused very decidedly on the cards in his hand and the game of Wicked Grace. At least it was Wicked Grace, he thought to himself. He wasn’t as abysmal in this game as in Diamondback. Though the fluttering feeling in his stomach did nothing to improve his skills. More than once Isabela had to poke him in the side and reminded him that it was his turn. Not that Isabela would have minded the physical contact. Quite the contrary! After Anders had been staring blankly for another few seconds Isabela leaned over to purr in his ear. “Thinking about someone special, sweet thing?”

“Andraste’s knickerweasel! Isabela!” Anders jumped in surprise and the blush got even deeper. In the sudden commotion to get some distance between himself and the pirate, Anders accidentally collided with Fenris’ shoulder. As he realized this, Anders almost jumped in the opposite direction again. “Damn, sorry Fenris!” Anders’ head hung low in shame, trying to hide his blush behind his hand of cards. At least Fenris was back to scowling at him, muttering a strained “Careful, mage!”. Anders attempt at hiding didn’t keep Isabela away in any case. “So there is someone… you need to tell me everything!”, her purring continued. “Or better yet, invite me the next time your darling is over!”

Anders frowned over his cards. “There is no one, Isabela! And even if there were, I wouldn’t invite you!” Isabela replied with a pout. “Ah… come on! Back in the Pearl you were happy to have me!” To emphasize her words, she slowly ran a finger down Anders’ left arm, leaning towards him and revealing a little more of her cleavage. At this Anders lifted an eyebrow. “As beautiful as you are, Bela, you’re wasting your efforts on me!” Nevertheless, he gave the relentless pirate a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m sorry!”

Isabela giggled and turned to her drink again. “No hard feelings, Anders. You know where you’ll find me if you change your mind!” She winked, but her smile was much softer than before. They had known each other for longer than the rest of their little group and as weird as it was, Anders trusted Isabela far more than he would ever admit to her.

“Hey Anders, instead of kissing, pay attention to the game!” Hawke laughed across the table. “It’s your turn!” Indeed, Anders had missed his cue again, the rest of his friends were waiting. “I am not… have not… never mind!” He played the next card; which surprisingly enough saved him and Aveline lost this round of cards. _‘At least’_ , Anders thought, _‘I am no longer making doe eyes at Fenris. Thanks, Isabela!’_

The card night that doubled as an engagement party went on without further interruptions. At least up until the point where they finished playing and Varric found it to be the perfect time to present his new book. “Hard in Hightown”, he exclaimed merrily. “It’s just the first volume, fresh out of the print!” The dwarf gleamed proudly as the book was handed around.

“How do you even find the time to write your stories, Varric?” Donnic looked curiously at the dwarf and was immediately wrapped up in an intense conversation with the dwarf about an author’s life, interrupted only by Aveline rolling her eyes.

In the meantime, the book had found its way to Fenris, who was eying it with a great degree of curiosity. He turned it round in his hands, marvelled at the number of pages and gave the cover a quizzical look. Anders observed all that with growing wonder. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen the elf with a book before. Fenris spoke up in a low whisper: “What is it about?” At that Anders’ brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, just read the description on the back. But I guess it is…” His voice trailed off as he saw the dark look that Fenris directed first at the script at the back and then towards the mage. Slowly and with a hint of anger Fenris shoved the book over to Merrill, who was oblivious of the conversation and took it with glee. Anders’ gaze was still fixed on the brooding elf. Carefully and quite astonished he eventually said: “You… you can’t read.”

Anders regretted his comment, however neutral it had been, immediately. “What’s it to you!” Fenris yelled at him, glaring daggers at the surprise in Anders’ face. Without another word Fenris turned on his seat and fixed his attention on Merrill. As if on cue the Dalish elf read out aloud the description on the back of the book. “Oh! That sounds exciting, Varric! Don’t you agree Fenris?!” Her happy smile brushed past the man sitting next to her and reached Anders who was still stunned at his discovery.

Fenris couldn’t read.

An idea started to form itself in Anders’ head. A marvellously stupid and dangerous idea. If Fenris couldn’t read… Anders might just as well have found a way of telling the elf exactly how he felt, without actually telling him anything at all.


	3. Pretence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan! A brilliant plan! A foolish plan! But it was a plan nonetheless. And Anders was ready to give Fenris his letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this and leaving so many comments! It really means a lot to me! <3

Anders spent the rest of the night in silence, only nodding at the jokes thrown around, his mind busy sorting through options how to get the letter to Fenris. Without any of their friends finding out about it of course. About half an hour after the book incident, Anders excused himself and parted for the night. As he left the Hanged Man though, Justice stirred in the back of his mind forcing his attention on the path. **_‘You are distracted again, Anders! Kirkwall is dangerous at night!’_** Anders could almost see Justice’s annoyed frown and did as he was told. His spirit friend was right after all, wandering through Kirkwall at night was not a piece of cake. Even for an experienced mage or warrior. Or Grey Warden apostate on the run.

After a detour to avoid a dubious group of people discussing “business”, Anders arrived at the clinic and locked the door behind him. Not that there was much use in locking a thin wooden door in Darktown, but it felt safer nonetheless. With a deep sigh Anders let himself sink down in the chair at his desk and fumbled for the letter. He had to remove several stacks of paper and unfinished parts of his manifesto to find it again. As he saw the offending first line _‘Dear Fenris’_ , he pulled the three sheets of paper out from their hiding place. _‘I almost lost them among my own manifesto’_ , he chuckled and fell silent.

 _‘That’s it! That is the perfect cover up for the letter… Fenris would never suspect anything but my thoughts on mage rights!’_ A content smile played around Anders’ lips. That was a good plan! What could possibly go wrong?

The next day the stream of patients was thinner than usual. No epidemic cold in Darktown, nor a bigger accident while building a makeshift home for yet another family in the chaos of the city. Anders was faced with a few bruised legs of some children - nothing severe, just accidents while playing - and a mild case of malnutrition. He handed the pair in question a few coins and a loaf of bread and send them to Varric. The dwarf had complained earlier that week that there were not enough workers in the docks and Anders was sure that he would employ anyone in search of work that Anders sent. And that the dwarf, in contrast to many, would offer fair wages.

As the presumably last patient of the day walked out – an old man with a bad cough that was likely caused by not enough fresh air – Anders grabbed the three pieces of paper that contained his most private thoughts, stuffed them into his coat pocket and made his way towards Hightown. It was early enough in the afternoon so Anders didn’t take the route through Hawke’s cellar and went all the way through the city instead. It had been a bright day with a steady wind from the sea that had managed to drive away the damp, stale air in Darktown and parts of Lowtown. Anders felt unusually excited, ignoring Justice’s indignation in his head and walking almost happily towards the stairs that led to Hightown.

The streets were bustling with people. Anders smiled. It was a lot easier to hide in a crowd. He moved past some merchants screaming loudly to praise their goods and finally ended up in the part of Hightown where the big mansions brimmed the alleys. Anders walked across the square that would take him to Hawke – he might visit her later, maybe checking if she had a hangover from the night before. His steps ceased as he reached the door to the downtrodden mansion that Fenris inhabited. 

Anders turned his head to make sure no one was watching him, knocked swiftly and entered. The door closed behind him and he was alone in the dim entrance hall. Alone with the corpses that still decorated the floor, wall and even stairs in some parts. Anders scrunched his nose at the smell from the decomposing bodies and walked towards the foot of the staircase. “Fenris? It’s Anders.” The mage took another step forward. Yet there was no answer to his call. _‘Maybe he’s ignoring me?’_ With a sigh Anders took the stairs to the only room Fenris was apparently using. He knocked again before entering the shabby bedroom, but even here there was no reply. And no Fenris.

Anders took in the sight of the bed, the wine bottles everywhere accompanied by shattered glass and the unlit fireplace. If it weren’t Fenris but one of Anders’ patients, he would have a passionate speech ready about proper living conditions and taking care of one’s health. But with Fenris, Anders had stopped trying to help after the elf had threatened to throw him out of the window, if he spoke on the subject again.

With Fenris nowhere in sight, Anders hesitated for a moment. Would it be safe to leave the letters in this room? He knew that Hawke visited the elf sometimes and there was no way, he wanted to share his secret with her. She could read his ramblings after all! Before Anders was able to make up his mind, he heard an annoyed huff behind him. Fenris stood there, casually leaning against the door frame, questioning eyes fixed on Anders. “What do you want in my home, mage?”

For a second Anders fumbled for words. _‘Maker, why do I get all flustered and speechless because of that stupid, handsome elf?!’_ In the end, he settled for “This is for you!”, placing the clumsily folded letter on the end of the bed.

Fenris glared at the piece of paper then at Anders. “Are you making fun of me?” Eyebrows narrowing dangerously, he took a step closer and snatched the papers from the bed. “No… I was just…” Anders tried to defend himself, but what defence could he bring forward besides the truth. So he closed his mouth and waited for Fenris’ reaction.

“First you discover I can’t read and now you leave me pages of your silly paper for mage rights?!” Anders gulped but secretly thanked the Maker that Fenris took the letter as exactly what he had hoped for. “I don’t need your stupid manifesto, mage!” Fenris’ face was torn in anger as he crunched the offending papers in his fist and threw them into the unlit fireplace. “Leave!”, he yelled and Anders didn’t even wait for a second. The door to Fenris’ bedroom was slammed shut behind him, almost hitting the back of Anders’ head. Despite Fenris’ rage, Anders couldn’t help but grin. His plan had worked and giving Fenris his weird declaration of love felt oddly satisfying. Even though Fenris would never read the words, would never suspect, and never know.

It hurt to a certain degree that Fenris thought Anders was trying to mock him again. But wasn’t this the whole point of the letters? Telling Fenris his feelings in a way that would never be understood, because there was no hope for them to be returned? No hope even to become friends. Offending Fenris was apparently all the mage was capable of. And as far as Anders’ hate for the intolerant elf had subsided, he was sure that Fenris would never overcome his distrust for magic, let alone… an _‘abomination’_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could possibly go wrong?! *facepalm*


	4. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' love letter has changed hands. Yet... nothing happend. Just as Anders had anticipated.  
> Although it didn't keep him from trying to approach the elf differently, even if his feelings would never be returned.

After Anders’ not so obvious declaration of love nothing changed. Fenris had been angry for a few days, at least Anders could only interpret the closed off expression, that the elf wore whenever he looked at Anders, as anger. It was all the same to him. He didn’t expect anything from Fenris but disdain. Although the healer tried his best to little by little stop the banter with Fenris from his side. Whenever he was able to.

Once, when the elf had commented on the weakness of mages, after Hawke and his little company had hunted down blood mages wreaking havoc in Lowtown, Anders bit his tongue. He silently counted to 10 in Ander exhaled deeply and turned towards Varric who suffered from a nasty wound in his leg. A tiny jolt of pride flushed through Anders, at not giving in to the usual verbal stabbing. Justice huffed in annoyance. **_‘You need to defend yourself against injustice as this!’_** But Anders remained silent. The look on Varric’s face, who obviously had expected a fight between elf and mage, was one of utter astonishment.

The next time Anders couldn’t bite back a comment of a different kind was about two weeks after he had given Fenris his letter. Rain was falling heavily on Kirkwall and Hawke had nothing better to do than accept a quest to search the Wounded Coast for slavers. The wind gnawed at their cloaks and the rain drove down mercilessly from the sky.

“Kaffas!”

The elf was swearing under his breath, visibly uncomfortable in the rain. Probably even more so than Merrill, Hawke, and Anders who were used to bad weather from Ferelden. Merrill earned a disgusted glare from Fenris when she not only didn’t seem to care about the cold rain, but started dancing through the puddles along the path.

“Hawke! Join me, this is fun!”

The elven mage held out her hands towards Hawke. The dark-haired women laughed and shook her head. “I don’t mind the weather but definitely couldn’t enjoy it as much as you do!” A soft smile spread on Hawke’s face and Merrill blushed. Anders definitely had to give Varric credit for always knowing what was going on inside the heart and mind of their leader. If not for that short tender expression, Anders would never have suspected a relationship between Merrill and Marian Hawke. He smiled. Oh Maker, how much he wished for them to be happy. They were his friends and even though Anders couldn’t condone Merrill’s fondness for blood magic, she was a kind woman, always ready to help others, never hateful. And Hawke needed someone as loving as that on her side.

“What about you Anders?” The mage was shaken from his thoughts as Merrill’s hand grasped his wrist and dragged him forward. “Isabela told me you can dance! And you seem to like the rain!” A playful smile was plastered across Merrill’s face, raindrops dripping down her hair. She was completely soaked but also undeniably happy. The only reply Anders managed before he was pulled along through the puddles was a surprised “huh?”. 

What Merrill probably didn’t know was that Anders actually liked the rain. Not the fact that it was cold and wet and drenched his hair and clothes. But it reminded Anders of being free. Even more so than sunlight and wind. He could have had a bit of sun and a light breeze in the Circle as well. But rain. Rain was free. Rain was outside. Rain was not a part of life in the Tower. Sometimes when the stale heat in Darktown was too much, too stiff, and too similar to the dry, closed off space of the Circle, Anders waited for the next short season of rain in Kirkwall and just stood at the docks. Letting the rain soak through his jacket, his shirt, his boots. He never felt more alive than in the rain.

A few steps with Merrill and Anders let out a soft laughter. He hadn’t felt as carefree in months, probably years. And now he was dancing through the rain with a laughing elf. Though maybe not the elf he wanted to see laughing and happy. He blushed at his train of thought and stopped. “Sorry Merrill… I think I am too old for this.” Anders tried an apologetic smile and quickly turned back to Hawke and Fenris, both still tightly wrapped in their cloaks. “One is never too old, Anders!”, chirped Merrill but shrugged and bend down to pick some flowers.

Hawke was giggling. “I never knew you had it in you, Anders!” She winked and Anders playfully threw back his wet hair with a shake of his head. “Me neither!” But despite the absurdity of the situation he laughed. “Not since my second escape from the circle has rain been so much fun.” He stopped himself from telling the whole story, when he met Fenris piercing look that was fixed directly at him. To be honest the elf seemed more like an angry, wet, wild cat. And as far as the mage could guess, probably felt exactly like that. He was sorry for Fenris. Tevinter wasn’t prone to suffer under rainfall as heavy as this.

Before Anders could stop himself, his compassion found a way out of his mind and to his mouth. “I could help with the cloak, you know. Make it repel the rain…”, he offered softly.

Confusion welled up in Fenris’ eyes and Anders registered what he had just said. “Why would you care?!” The elf’s words were tense but filled with badly concealed surprise and Anders felt stupid. Stupid and too obvious in his regard for Fenris. Though he was saved from further embarrassment, as Merrill came running towards them with an angry yell: “Slavers! Around the next bend!”

During the fight, there was no more occasion or need for talking. Slavers were slain by sword and magic and a dozen people freed from a nearby cave. In the aftermath of the battle Anders was too busy checking the freed slaves for injuries to worry about a drenched, confused elf, that watched him closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders' fondness for the small things of life and freedom (just as rain) was heavily inspired by this piece of art by Queen-Schadenfreude http://queen-schadenfreude.tumblr.com/post/120260601883/anders-doesnt-take-things-like-the-feeling-of  
> I am so in love with the tender smile of happiness. Anders deserves all the happiness!
> 
> let's see if he gets that in this fanfic as well...


	5. Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his friends come back from a mission, Anders is focused on healing them. Although he hadn't anticipated Fenris to be one of the wounded.

The third-time Anders struggled with his words and feelings was at the Hanged Man the following week. The rain had stopped and left Kirkwall in its usual sunny and dry weather. Much to Fenris’ approval as it seemed. Anders had noticed something off about the elf in the last days. He seemed much more content or rather less bored by his day to day life. Or maybe Anders was imagining things and watching Fenris too closely. **_‘Far too close! You’re categorizing the elf’s smiles in degrees of contentment!’_** Justice’s indignant comment rung in Anders’ ears and made him blush even before he was faced with the elf himself. _‘No, I am not. I’m a healer, I am bound to watch my companions closely so I don’t miss it when they are ill.’_ Anders knew there was no way Justice would believe this, but in a desperate attempt to retain at least a glimpse of dignity, he tried anyway. **_‘That is a lie. And you know that.’_** With these encouraging words Anders entered Varric’s room.

By the looks of it, he was the first. Varric was still busy with his account book… or some new piece of fiction, Anders couldn’t tell. He barely looked up as Anders entered. “Do me a favour Blondie and order some drinks, the others will surely be here soon”, Varric muttered, still busy filling the page in front of him with his meticulous handwriting.

Anders did as he was told, ordered some ale and wine and his obligatory tea and went back up. The second time he entered Varric’s room, the book had disappeared and a deck of cards lay in front of the dwarf.

“Ahh, thank you!” Varric reached out for one of the mugs of ale as soon as it was brought in and drank half of it in one go. “Busy day?”, asked Anders and took the chair next to Varric. “Do you need help?” At that Varric chuckled and patted Anders’ shoulder. “Nothing a healer could help with. The Carta is quite… annoying as of late.” He sighed. “But speaking of help. Everything ok with you and Broody? I thought telling you about Hawke and Merrill weeks ago would solve the tension a bit, but you seem even more on edge lately. Not even fighting back, when Fenris teases you. Do I have to worry about my favourite healer?” Anders immediately retorted: “I am the only healer you know, Varric!”, which was followed by a deep laughter from the man himself. “And no… I’m fine… it’s complicated.” Varric sighed again and his smile was replaced by a rare earnest expression. “You said that last time, too. At least promise to tell me, if I can do anything for you!” Anders nodded. He hoped that Varric had no suspicion about his strange behaviour. But as the dwarf seemingly recollected a conversation that was about two months ago, Anders feared for the safety of his secret feelings. The dwarf appeared to take an eager interest in him.

What if Varric found out? What if he gave Fenris a hint? Anders told himself off instantly and was saved from awkwardly asking Varric about it, by the opening of the door. The rest of their companions entered. Just returned from an outing to Sundermount and they looked positively terrible. 

“Spiders!”, was all Hawke could say before she slumped down into a chair. “They seemed to like you a lot”, added Isabela but without her usual cheerfulness. She held her left arm in an odd angle. Anders didn’t have to be a healer to see that she was hurt, probably quite badly. Before Merrill or Fenris joined into the complaining, Anders was already up on his feet and directed his attention towards Isabela. “May I?” he pointed at the arm and Isabela let out a purring sound as a reply. The mage didn’t need any further invitation. A quick examination of the arm and a hiss of pain from Isabela confirmed his suspicion. _‘Broken.’_ Luckily not dislocated. Anders placed his hands carefully over the fracture and let his healing seep into the arm.

“How did you even manage to get back to Kirkwall without collapsing?” Anders’ brows furrowed in concentration. “Hmmm… oh that is divine… you should heal me more often…” Isabela closed her eyes and Anders could see the pained expression vanish bit by bit until the rogue looked at him in relief. “I still had one of your health potions… might need new ones, if Hawke wants to cuddle spiders again.” Her smile was back to its flirty quality. Hawke only groaned in reply, while Merrill was busy unwrapping a bandage on her partner’s leg that revealed an ugly, green rimmed wound.

In an instant Anders went from Isabela – ignoring her protest that he hadn’t used his Sparklefingers yet – to Hawke. Before doing anything, he turned to Merrill. “Poison I assume?!” The elf nodded. “Yes. One of the spiders. Did my best with an antidote, so it wouldn’t spread. But I am no healer.” She smiled, but behind it Anders saw a deep worry in her green eyes. He couldn’t help himself. Merrill’s dedication and loyalty to Hawke always took him by surprise and he was glad he had a patient to think about, or he might have just hugged the blood mage to comfort her.

“Seems you were quite successful with that. I can see no deeper infection. But the wound won’t heal until the poison is gone.” Anders examined the nasty cut closely. A bit of healing and another antidote might be enough. “Do you have any supplies for more antidote in your home? The Alienage is closer than my clinic after all.” As Merrill jumped up immediately to get the herbs, Anders stopped her with his hand around her wrist. “Don’t go alone! Varric says the Carta is more active.” Her worried frown softened and she smiled at Anders. “I can manage.” And the small elf disappeared from the room.

Anders was bound to wait for her return before he could do anything for Hawke, so that only left Fenris. Something in his chest tightened as he walked over to the place where Fenris sat in silence. Carefully Anders stopped a few feet away from the elf. “Are you ok?” He bit his tongue. He hoped desperately that it hadn’t sounded as worried as it seemed to him. The elf slowly turned his head upwards but evaded Anders’ gaze. “...’tis nothing…” His voice was shallow and strained, not even close to the normal deep rumble.

“He’s lying!” Hawke’s soft mutter seemed just as exhausted as Fenris looked. “Fenris dragged Isabela out of the cave, away from the spiders. Got a wound in his side. That’s where all our health potions went.” Anders felt himself getting pale. “Fenris!” He spun towards the elf again with remarkable speed. “Let me take a look at the wound! You need healing!” Anders registered the tiny pitch of panic in his own voice but ignored it. Damn that stubborn elf that wanted to save everybody! Damn that stupid, lovely idiot!

Fenris only hugged himself tightly and looked away with a slight tinge of red to his cheeks. Anders guessed out of anger. “As I said, it is nothing! You can heal Hawke!”

The mage felt a hint of fury welling up. If the elf was going to be stubborn, so would he!

Anders took a step closer and knelt down directly in front of Fenris, so their faces were on the same level. “I will heal Hawke as soon as Merrill has prepared the antidote. And in the meantime,”, Anders’ look had by now turned into a glare that could rival Fenris’ easily, “I will heal you! And if you don’t want it to be with magic you better remove your hands from the wound!” Fenris turned to face Anders in surprise. Slowly, very slowly he let his hands sink and revealed the deep cut in his side. Anders’ rage ebbed away and made way for the intuitive reaction that had been bubbling in his chest for some moments now. A panicked yelp, escaped him, followed by: “Maker, Fenris! That must hurt!” He couldn’t stop himself, his eyes probably filled with worry, the mage bend down to examine the wound with careful movements. All the while Fenris stared at him with a mixture of shock and utter bewilderment. As did Varric, Isabela and Hawke. 

Anders felt the looks of everyone and could barely fight the blush from creeping into his face. Fine… they now knew that maybe he cared a little about the elf. A little. Maybe…

He shrugged internally, helped along by Justice’s remark **_‘He’s still bleeding Anders!’_** , and finally found his composure as a healer again. “Hot water and more bandages, Varric! We need him to lie down, Isabela, a second pair of hands would be great if your arm is well enough.” The healer uttered orders and went about his work, while the others complied in stunned silence.

After Merrill returned with Aveline – who had met her outside the inn and accompanied her to the Alienage and back – and the antidote, Anders turned towards Hawke and the poisoned wound again. It was healed in no time. That left Fenris’ wound, which was clean by then and stitched back together the non-magical way, much to Anders’ chagrin. All the while Anders kept his mouth shut in a desperate but failing attempt to keep his worry to himself and his feelings from bursting out. He was a hopeless fool and probably at least Varric, knew that by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading this. The comments really made my day more than once and I am so happy you're enjoying this fanfic! <3


	6. Scheme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There had to be a way to tell Fenris how he felt. Without telling him of course. Merrill supplies Anders with an unexpected idea.

Anders definitely needed another way to tell the elf. He needed something to get the words out. Ere his stupid mouth run away with his feelings and blurted out another embarrassing jumble of words. And soon! Before his friends - or even worse the elf himself - realized what was troubling Anders.

Unsure whether he could play the manifesto card again without getting his heart crushed, Anders was in desperate pursuit of a new way to write his feelings down and make them known. Or rather not known in the case of the illiterate elf. Because writing down apparently was the only way to sufficiently silence the flow of words in Anders’ head. Apart from speaking them aloud of course, but that could never happen!

After the fiasco with Fenris’ wound in the Hanged Man, Anders had done his best to avoid the elf and most of his friends. He didn’t need their curious questions or worried looks. Oddly enough Merrill wasn’t part of that problem, as she hadn’t been present during Anders’ emotional outburst. She had visited him in the clinic two days after the chaotic card night with a bundle of herbs and an unexpected question.

“Can you teach me how to make your health potions?” Anders had blinked in surprise and stared at the elf. “I can offer some poisons or antidotes in return… I know you might not need the poisons… but understanding the poison helps understand the cure… or so I’ve heard from the healer of our clan… sorry I am rambling…” Merrill had smiled apologetically and almost turned to go, before Anders found his voice again. “I would like that.”

The happy smile Anders received in return, almost made him question why he hadn’t gotten along with Merrill before. Justice supplied the answer. **_‘She’s still a blood mage! You want to help her with that foul magic?’_** If Justice had had a nose of his own, he would have scrunched it in disgust. Anders though was in no humour to give in to Justice this time. Yes, his friend was right, but there was nothing wrong in showing someone the benefits of magic and healing. Maybe it would even induce Merrill to see that she didn’t need her blood magic as often or at all. Anders was aware that he was too idealistic, but the prospect of showing someone the good side of magic silenced Justice for the time being.

The day went by faster than anticipated. Anders still tended to his patients. But now and then he would go over to Merrill, who sat at his desk and studied one of his books or stirred another potion in the bowl over the fire. Anders discovered, what he had reluctantly known before, that Merrill was exceptionally talented, fast in learning and knew a lot about herbs and plants, though mostly the dangerous kinds. Some of the patients eyed the unfamiliar elf with worry, but were easily relieved, once Anders told them that she was his new healing apprentice. It was the safe explanation. Safer than telling them she was a blood mage that wanted to improve her skills. But Anders’ words had produced such a huge smile on Merrill’s face that he didn’t really mind his small lie.

“What shall I write on the label, Anders?”

The day was closing and Merrill had produced a huge amount of different potions that she was currently bottling up and labelling. “Do you have a specific name for your potion? Do you add ingredients on the labels, too, for your own notice?” Merrill looked questioningly at Anders who was busy cleaning the bowl. “Ehm… well the one I have taught you today is just my usual health potion… sometimes I write ingredients on them. To make sure I don’t mix up potions when I need a specific one and want to prevent side effects.” Merrill giggled. “Well then I will call this one _‘Anders’ Potion’_. You’re our healer, this is your potion, so it makes perfect sense.” The elf dipped the quill into the ink and wrote down _‘Anders’ Potion’_ on the small label of every bottle. She even added the ingredients in a tiny yet precise script that Anders could barely make out. As he went over and took one of the potions in his hand, he marvelled at the neat handwriting. And the fact that probably no one who used these potions would ever take a second look at the label. Apart from the healer.

Nobody ever read the labels… **_‘This is a very silly idea, Anders!’_** , Justice complained even before the idea had fully formed itself inside Anders’ head. But Anders wasn’t convinced it was so silly after all. Not sillier than a love letter given under the pretence of being an essay on mage rights. None of Anders’ companions ever read the description of the potion bottles he gave to them. And if he was careful and made sure he gave the ones with the special labels just to Fenris… **_‘Don’t cry to me if this goes wrong. I have warned you!’_** And with that Justice withdrew himself into the depth of Anders’ mind, probably sulking about his stupid, love struck host.

“Thank you for your help today, Merrill! I really appreciate it!” Anders said goodbye to the elf at his door. “Huh? But you helped me today, I didn’t do anything!” Merrill looked puzzled, her arms slung around the basket with an assortment of potion bottles of different size and kind. “But glad I was helpful… in whatever way I was… See you soon? I have to do something for Hawke in the next days but I might be able to return next week. If you’ll have me again…” She looked up hopefully and was met with a smile and nod from the mage. “Sure! Whenever you need help, I’m here!” Happiness seemed to radiate from the small woman as she beamed up at Anders and left.

Anders closed the door behind her, locked it and almost immediately sat down at his desk again, reaching for an empty potion bottle. He eyed the blank label curiously. What kind of messages could he hide there? And literally hide, he needed a matter of disguise so no curious dwarf or pirate or other mage would read, what was not supposed to be read by them. Just by Fenris. Who wouldn’t read it either.

Anders sighed and was almost willing to give up this new plan when his gaze fell upon his bed and the worn-down pillow from his mother. A grin spread on his face. Nobody had said he could only declare his love in Trade. As far as Anders knew, his friends couldn’t understand Ander nor Tevene. So, if the mage hid his stupid feelings as random words in his father’s language and the tongue of the Imperium no one would know.

Over the next days, Anders made sure that he set aside a small number of health potions that he labelled with additional tags. “I like you” and “I love you” in Ander were only the start of it. After a week of childish confessions hidden in the ingredients’ list, Anders remembered a lesson on potions that he had almost forgotten. Wynne, another mage and healer in the circle - one of the few people that Anders had liked - , once mentioned that positive affirmations could influence the effectiveness of a potion. Back then his teenage self hadn’t spent much thought on that. A health potion was a health potion whether you painted hearts on it or not. But now he contemplated that maybe the older woman was right. And even if not, it was worth giving it a try. So instead of mindless declarations of love the labels for Fenris’ potions now contained blessings and affirmations and sometimes even little poems. 

Another week went by, the potion lessons with Merrill continued and Anders got better and better at writing so small that he himself could barely read, what he had told Fenris this time. Merrill hadn’t noticed the stash of bottles that were separated from the others or if she had, she didn’t question Anders.

The two mages had found a routine of brewing potions, tending to patients, often together, and talking about possibilities how to improve certain recipes. In the meantime, Anders continued his secret agenda, the first specially labelled potions having found their way towards Fenris. Every time Anders was out on a mission with Hawke now, which didn’t happen too often, the mage made sure the special bottles were only on Fenris’ belt. And if the elf had noticed that the text on his potions was longer than on that of their companions he hadn’t commented on it.


	7. Amatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' plan went surprisingly well. No one had discovered his secret feelings.  
> There was only one problem with it. "No one" also included Fenris.

Anders’ secret declarations went unnoticed by his companions for three months.

Three months since Anders’ worried outburst over Fenris’ wound. Not once had there been an incident where the additional tags were seen by the others. Anders prided himself with being even more discrete than he had thought himself capable of. Maybe it was his current success at keeping the potion bottles unnoticed or the fact that he hadn’t spoken up overly affectionate towards Fenris again, but Anders got a bit too obviously gleeful. Once Fenris had even asked, if he had swallowed a happiness potion, as Anders handed him his share of the health potions. Anders denied it immediately, claiming that he didn’t even know of something like a happiness potion. The little smile on Fenris’ face quite escaped the notice of the furiously not blushing mage.

Despite that incident or maybe rather because of it, Anders’ labels got even more crowded. Up until one night, after Merrill had left and Anders was concentrating on the miniature script he filled the label with. **_‘Why don’t you write another letter instead of this label. You can’t even decipher it yourself!’_** Anders flinched in surprise and a huge ink spot destroyed what he had already written. Justice sure wasn’t helpful, but…

Anders eyed the bottles he had labelled tonight. The papers where filled with so much text that it wasn’t even recognizable what kind of potion it actually was. The mage sighed and looked at his ink stained fingers, then back at the potions in front of him. His mind was buzzing with words again. Even more words then when this ridiculous notion had started and he had sat down to write the letter all those months ago. If possible, the mage suspected that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with the elf with every day that passed. Who, though being for some mysterious reason slightly nicer towards the mage, still had no clue about his feelings.

Finally, Anders took up a new label, glued it onto the bottle and wrote one single word beneath the list of ingredients.

_‘Amatus’_

His Tevene was not as fluent as he wished, but it had sufficed for saying what he felt in the last months. And if not with a jumble of a thousand words, Anders would come back to that single term. A word that transferred everything he ever wanted to say to Fenris but couldn’t. If the elf were to read it, he would understand. He surely would know… He came from Tevinter after all. But Fenris would never know how Anders felt.

The mage sunk down in his chair and stared at the bottle, the ink stains everywhere, the dust collecting in the corners of the room, the bloody bandages he still had to wash tonight before the blood dried. He was still the lonely apostate in Darktown, healing people, fighting for mage rights and writing love letters and declarations to a person who wasn’t any closer to him than six months earlier.

And suddenly Anders cried.

He had thought it to be enough to get the feelings out, to get rid of them, to tell them without telling. But that had been a lie. Because what he really wished for, what he wanted, was for no longer to be Fenris’ enemy. He wanted to be not only the ‘mage’, he wanted to be Fenris’ friend. Even if that was an impossible wish… Anders clung to it so violently that Justice had to drag up the healer after hours of crying and shaking and placed him in bed. He didn’t even comment, just pulled the blanket up and wrapped it around them. Until the sobbing subsided and Anders fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading up to this point!  
> There is only one chapter left. At least from Anders' POV. I hope you'll enjoy that as well.


	8. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has resolved to accept things as they are. But then on an especially fine day, Varric accidentally changes these plans.

After that night Anders’ writing stopped. His mind was crowded with thoughts and feelings as much as ever, but he couldn’t get them out any more. The last bottles had found their way to Fenris and Anders resigned himself that there would be no more of that nonsense. Justice had been right. All those months he had indulged feelings that should have been bottled up and forgotten. They were hopeless and pathetic, and Anders was done with being hopeless and pathetic. His endeavours in the mage underground reached a new determination, that kept Justice happy and Anders from crying his eyes out at night. Or yelling at himself for being so stupid.

But then Varric happened.

They were out on the Wounded Coast again, another run in with some slavers that were foolish enough to attack Hawke and her companions. They didn’t live to tell the tale and the friends went out of the fight with barely even a scratch. The sun was still high in the sky though, and instead of heading back to Kirkwall right after the slavers were overpowered, the small group sat down in the shadows of a few trees. The weather could have been described as perfect. The sea was beautiful and with the threat of attackers eliminated, Anders really enjoyed sitting there out in the open. Hawke, Varric and Fenris were equally silent, their gaze turned towards the glistening waves. Anders leaned back against the tree, deeply inhaling the sea air and watched his friends. He had been sure, that there had been no injury, though he just saw Fenris raising a health potion to his lips. Had he missed a wound or was that just against the ache of the lyrium brands? The mage tried to shake the bubbling worry away, as Varric spoke up.

“What is that additional line on your health potion, Fenris?” 

Anders’ eyes doubled in size, his heart suddenly racing as he stared at the dwarf. He had assumed that Fenris had run out of especially labelled potions by now. He could only hope that Varric wouldn’t read out aloud, whatever Anders had written on the bottle.

“It says ‘Amatus’. It’s Tevene.”, Fenris replied with an unreadable, calm expression. 

Anders froze. 

Shocked and stunned and absolutely frightened.

When had the elf learned to read?!

Fenris chose that moment to turn towards him and Anders’ heart sank at the intense stare that bore into his eyes and made him look away. He was a dead man! Damnit why didn’t he destroy the stupid labels once he had chosen not to continue his idiotic plan?!

Without being fully aware of his actions, Anders got up and mumbled something unintelligible. Maybe it was “Forgot something at the clinic” and he walked as fast as possible back towards Kirkwall. As soon as he was out of sight, Anders started running which earned him a questioning look at the city gate. If not for Donnic who had guard duty that day, they probably wouldn’t have let him in at all, no matter how often he said that he was a friend of Marian Hawke’s.

The walk through Hightown and Lowtown back to his clinic was a complete blur afterwards. Anders knew he must have passed Isabela, for he dimly remembered someone shouting “Sparklefingers”, but he didn’t recall when or where. All his mind seemed capable of doing at the moment was screaming in a high-pitched voice and constantly yelling: _‘WHAT IN THE MAKER’S NAME AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?’_

A soft knock at the clinic door and a pair of fearful eyes interrupted his helpless attack of self-pity and terror. “I am sorry. Are you the healer? Mama is sick and I can’t help her. Can you please help her?”

Anders could have kissed the child right then and there for giving him something else to do than panic. He followed the child into Lowtown, grabbing some potions, bandages and some more elfroot. Just for good measure. As Anders entered the small house, he felt humbled by the modest space of the room. Sure, he lived so close to the sewers of Kirkwall, he could smell them on bad days, but this family had just as much space as he had for his bed and desk alone. The sick woman turned out to be rather young, with a strong Fereldan accent, who had overworked herself despite her pregnancy. Anders’ task as a healer was relatively simple and he was done quickly. Before leaving he made her promise to send for him, when there was something amiss again and returned after a quick trip to the Hanged Man with a big steaming bowl of stew and loaf of bread, that he handed the surprised child. “She will be fine! Don’t worry!”

Anders let out a deep sigh as his feet took him back to Darktown and his home. He had needed that incident. To get his priorities sorted again. He was alive. He was well. And even though Fenris knew about his feelings now, the fact that he hadn’t been killed yet probably meant, that the elf wasn’t going to do so.

Though, the tiny piece of calmness crumbled to dust as Anders entered his clinic and saw a familiar elf sitting at his desk. An assembly of empty potion bottles and a formerly crunched up piece of paper placed on the table behind him.

The mage’s breath hitched as he recognized his letter and he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He just stared at the elf, unsure what he had to expect now. For an eternity, none of them said a word. Anders gaping in fear, Fenris with an expression that was impossible to read.

Finally the elf stood up and walked a step towards the mage. Fenris said just one single word: “Why?”

Anders had anticipated a lot of things. Insults, teasing, accusations. Thus, the short question puzzled him even more. His reply - when he found the courage to speak up – came out in a rambling mess: “Eh… well… I don’t know… I didn’t plan to like you… I..”

An exasperated sigh left Fenris and Anders stopped his mumbling immediately. “I didn’t mean why you like me, that is quite obvious from your writing. But why didn’t you tell me? In person?” Fenris looked at Anders with a curious but sad expression.

At that Anders blinked. Once. And then again. “I… I thought you would despise me even more, if you knew.” His heart clenched. He still wasn’t sure Fenris didn’t do exactly that. “I couldn’t face you and tell you… all this”, his hand waved in the direction of the letter and bottles, “… not after all the fighting and insults and hate between us… I felt like a hypocrite and maybe I am…”

Anders’ gaze dropped to the floor. His heart lay bare to the other man. He had read the letter, kept it for some unknown reason of his own and knew everything. Even more so now, as Anders had openly confirmed his feelings towards the elf. Anders needn’t say more. Fenris already knew.

A soft chuckle echoed through the room that made Anders look up again. Fenris smiled. Not just a hint of a smile, but an actual proper expression of happiness. In addition to that smile, the elf walked forward, closing the distance between them and hesitantly reached out to brush away a tear from Anders’ cheek.

“Make that two hypocrites”, Fenris said, the tender smile still spreading. A hand closed itself firmly around Anders’, entwining their fingers. Anders blinked again. His heart seemed ready to explode every second. “I’m sorry it took me so long, to learn to read your letter.”

Still smiling Fenris leaned upwards, his voice only a whisper.

“Amatus…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this last chapter by the mage. It was amazing to get so much feedback. All these lovely comments made my day more than once (honestly <3)  
> Comments and feedback is of course still welcome for the next chapter(s) that will not focus on Anders' thoughts ;)
> 
> Thank you again! I hope you'll come back for future stories with these two!  
> \- kittenmage


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